Ari’s plane or the remains of the son of one of its neighbors and supposed allies, was not a possibility he relished.
Worse, Nicki knew where that wreckage was. So if someone wanted that information buried, she’d be the first person in line to be buried as well.
He grimaced. There were a lot of ifs in that statement, and he more than most knew the danger of getting too caught up in ifs. Part of what made him successful was his ability to focus only on what mattered to the job at hand.
And what mattered at this moment was keeping Nicki out of access to anyone but him, until they returned her safely home to Garronia.
Home. His lips twisted on the word. The palace wasn’t really his home, but it was the closest he’d probably get in this lifetime. His father had been a distant cousin to the king, but Stefan hadn’t known the royal family well until after the accident that had taken his parents’ lives. King Jasen had taken him in without question or conversation, welcoming him into the palace even though he’d been an idiot teen, angry at the world. The king and queen and had showered him with faith and understanding, and they’d asked for nothing in return but his unstinting service. He would give them that. He would always give them that.
Beside him, Nicki was mute on the edge of her seat, clearly excited to be along for the op but trying hard not to show it. He tightened his jaw, thinking of what she’d heard in the conference room at the palace. He’d not been wrong. She shouldn’t have been asked to do this. But she wanted so badly to succeed…
He frowned, a new thought striking him. What was behind Nicki’s urgency, exactly?
Stefan knew enough not to imagine it was solely because she was swept up in her attraction for him. So why? By all accounts, she was successful at her work. She was strong and fierce, and her friends and family adored her. Arguably, he hadn’t read Nicki’s dossier as closely as Emmaline’s, after Prince Kristos had begun showering the girl with attention. Nicki had been a distant third in his concern behind the wide-eyed Emmaline and the shrewd-tongued Lauren. She was content to be in the background. Particularly if that background had a wall she could climb.
Nicki must have sensed his attention, because she turned at that moment, catching his expression. She grinned widely then, letting some of her excitement leech out before grabbing at the edge of the speedboat as the driver abruptly banked. They’d arrived.
Their trip had taken them around the southern tip of the island, facing out to sea. Stefan couldn’t see any of the mainland from this vantage point, though it was only a few miles distant, and instead his attention focused on a small collection of huts that peeked out of the thick vegetation, virtually undetectable unless you were looking for them.
When they reached the sand, Stefan handed Nicki a broad scarf. “Hair and face,” he instructed, and she complied without comment. Much of Turkey embraced western ideas regarding a woman’s need to cover herself in public, but Stefan wasn’t taking any chances with these outliers. And Nicki didn’t bat an eye—again, she was following orders, and delighted to do so. Her bright eyes took in everything, and her mouth stayed firmly shut.
They trooped up to the scavenger dealer and after quick orders delivered in Garronois, Stefan and one man continued on while Nicki, flanked by guards who were trying to act like anything other than her protectors, stopped at a lean-to bristling with junk. She and the guards would pretend to paw through the offerings while Stefan met with the dealer. Without another word, he and his lone guard moved on.
The dealer sat outside his hut, beneath a large fabric shade. He was fat in the way once-strong men often were, layers of softness obscuring but not negating the tough core beneath. He nodded as Stefan walked up, then focused on his team.
“Who is the woman?”
“Guest. Didn’t
Worse, Nicki knew where that wreckage was. So if someone wanted that information buried, she’d be the first person in line to be buried as well.
He grimaced. There were a lot of ifs in that statement, and he more than most knew the danger of getting too caught up in ifs. Part of what made him successful was his ability to focus only on what mattered to the job at hand.
And what mattered at this moment was keeping Nicki out of access to anyone but him, until they returned her safely home to Garronia.
Home. His lips twisted on the word. The palace wasn’t really his home, but it was the closest he’d probably get in this lifetime. His father had been a distant cousin to the king, but Stefan hadn’t known the royal family well until after the accident that had taken his parents’ lives. King Jasen had taken him in without question or conversation, welcoming him into the palace even though he’d been an idiot teen, angry at the world. The king and queen and had showered him with faith and understanding, and they’d asked for nothing in return but his unstinting service. He would give them that. He would always give them that.
Beside him, Nicki was mute on the edge of her seat, clearly excited to be along for the op but trying hard not to show it. He tightened his jaw, thinking of what she’d heard in the conference room at the palace. He’d not been wrong. She shouldn’t have been asked to do this. But she wanted so badly to succeed…
He frowned, a new thought striking him. What was behind Nicki’s urgency, exactly?
Stefan knew enough not to imagine it was solely because she was swept up in her attraction for him. So why? By all accounts, she was successful at her work. She was strong and fierce, and her friends and family adored her. Arguably, he hadn’t read Nicki’s dossier as closely as Emmaline’s, after Prince Kristos had begun showering the girl with attention. Nicki had been a distant third in his concern behind the wide-eyed Emmaline and the shrewd-tongued Lauren. She was content to be in the background. Particularly if that background had a wall she could climb.
Nicki must have sensed his attention, because she turned at that moment, catching his expression. She grinned widely then, letting some of her excitement leech out before grabbing at the edge of the speedboat as the driver abruptly banked. They’d arrived.
Their trip had taken them around the southern tip of the island, facing out to sea. Stefan couldn’t see any of the mainland from this vantage point, though it was only a few miles distant, and instead his attention focused on a small collection of huts that peeked out of the thick vegetation, virtually undetectable unless you were looking for them.
When they reached the sand, Stefan handed Nicki a broad scarf. “Hair and face,” he instructed, and she complied without comment. Much of Turkey embraced western ideas regarding a woman’s need to cover herself in public, but Stefan wasn’t taking any chances with these outliers. And Nicki didn’t bat an eye—again, she was following orders, and delighted to do so. Her bright eyes took in everything, and her mouth stayed firmly shut.
They trooped up to the scavenger dealer and after quick orders delivered in Garronois, Stefan and one man continued on while Nicki, flanked by guards who were trying to act like anything other than her protectors, stopped at a lean-to bristling with junk. She and the guards would pretend to paw through the offerings while Stefan met with the dealer. Without another word, he and his lone guard moved on.
The dealer sat outside his hut, beneath a large fabric shade. He was fat in the way once-strong men often were, layers of softness obscuring but not negating the tough core beneath. He nodded as Stefan walked up, then focused on his team.
“Who is the woman?”
“Guest. Didn’t
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